


It Shatters To Stars

by Lylanne (orphan_account)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-11
Updated: 2019-09-11
Packaged: 2020-10-14 10:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20599232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Lylanne
Summary: Context: Modern AU, both are of consenting age (hence the modern au). Margaery invited Sansa to tea with her grandmother, Sansa spilled tea all upon herself.Back at their apartment, Margaery comes to apologize. (Almost an alternate version of 'Happily')





	It Shatters To Stars

**Author's Note:**

> Day Three!  
Prompt: Coffee/Tea
> 
> Only 5 days left! Check the tag out on Tumblr for everyone's incredible contributions and join these last few prompts if you'd like💛
> 
> Also, bold of me to assume Sansa is a top  
And I'm SORRY to cockblock for the second time in a fic, I promise it's for a reason. Thanks for reading!

The tea had soaked completely through her dress, dripping hot against her flesh.

She closed her door, chest heaving from the brisque insistance she'd walked with. Her face was warm, flushed with embarresment. 

_What is she doing to me?_ Sansa wondered. Even the thought of Margaery made Sansa blush and slip into a daydream filled with every supression and curiosity.

Sansa sighed, taking the pins from her hair and pulling her dress above her head.

Her leg was damp, the tea soaking just the corner of her dress slip, a small silken thing she wore for her own pleasure. Sansa smiled to herself, massaging circles to her neck as she moved from the door, air cooling her newly exposed wet skin.

She had settled into an armchair when a light knock fluttered along the wooden door.

"Sansa?" A voice called, soft and gorgeous. Good god, even her voice made Sansa flush. She tried to control herself, forcing her face into a neutral suprise.

"Come in," Sansa said, leveling her voice.

Margaery slipped in, lithe and practiced, shutting the door behind. She eyed Sansa's crumpled dress, stepping over it quite delicately.

She sat atop Sansa's vanity, crossing her legs.

"I came to apologize, my grandmother is a stickler for perfection, and she was annoyed at the tea, not you."

She looked genuine, but an unsettling amusement lit her eyes and Sansa feared Margaery might be mocking her.

"I was not offended." Sansa offered, pulling her hair in front her shoulders to shield the creeping blush along her cheeks.

"I also came to speak with you of...other things." She wanted to be demure, to skirt the edges of comfort. Sansa would not allow it, she'd waited so long already.

"You kissed me." Sansa confronted.

Margaery didn't wince, didn't anger, she simply sat a little straighter, "I did."

"And I liked it," Sansa said, hushed and almost to herself.

"So did I." Margaery matched Sansa's tone, eyes trained to the carpet beneath them.

Tension rolled off Sansa in waves, replaced with a whole new jarble of worry and curiosity.

She stood, bracing each movement as if one wrong move would swiftly swipe her from this chance.

"I would like you to do it again," Sansa said, standing before Margaery.

"So would I."

It was slow, the anticipation nearly swallowing Sansa to its maddening oblivion; then it was lightnig fast, and Sansa feared she hadn't been ready.

Yet when her lips touch Margaery's, soft and sweet and encouraging, her heart melted to the stars all her favorite poets spoke of. She moved to her own desperation, grasping Margaery's back and cradling her neck.

Margaery slipped from the vanity, pressing tight and measured into Sansa, every bit as anxious and desperate as Sansa was. They moved quick, barely allowing breath to break this moment.

"Wait!"

Margaery pulled away, shattering Sansa's resolve.

"I'm sorry," Sansa said, moving back.

Margaery laughed, "For what?"

Now Sansa was lost. If all was well, "Why did you stop?"

Margaery smiled, "We're not desperate teenage boys, are we?"

Sansa couldn't grasp what Margaery meant by this, "No."

Margaery took Sansa's hands, skimming her fingertips to grip Sansa's shoulders, lightly, "We're women. Let us not kiss like animals."

"Oh," Sansa said, returing the smile.

Margaery moved away, undoing the knot of her wrap-dress. When she turned again, her dress lay open like a robe, exposing her undercloths; lace and delicate.

She slid the dress down her arms, watching the fabric fall. Sansa focused on her face, nearly sure this must be some wonderfully detailed dream.

The dress fell, and Margaery stood in her underwear, confidence radiating brilliantly from her beautiful figure.

"Woah." Sansa couldn't help herself; Margaery was gorgeous, such a fact surely deserved vocal praise.

Her caramel hair kissed the tip of her collar bone, which poked just enough to announce it's existance. She was soft; muscle hidden beneath a very feminine construction. Sansa wanted all at once to stare at her forever and touch her everywhere Margaery might want.

"Your turn." Margaery insisted, eyes alight and joyous.

Sansa needed only a moment to decide: all that seperated her bare skin from the night air was her silk slip, the corner dampened by tea. Perhaps she ought to be bashful, but she found herself excited. She wanted this intimacy with a fire; burning hot and imeasurable inside her.

She lifted the straps from her shoulders, allowing the slip to glide down her body, straightening her posture as it fell; displaying herself.

"I win." She stated, ready for this game Margaery insisted upon.

Margaery laughed, "You certainly do." She walked closer, taking in all Sansa had to share, "You're the most beautiful person, you know that?"

She breached their distance, pressing a hand to Sansa's bare waist. She tilted her head, kissing the base of Sansa's neck, moving closer still. Before she could think to be coy, a moan escaped Sansa, Margaery's left hand had placed low on her hip.

Sansa regained her control, trailing her hands down Margaery's back as Margaery kissed every inch she could find; her neck, her sternum, her collar, the start of her shoulders; it was intoxicating.

Sansa felt her heart might burst. Still,

"Wait," Sansa said, pulling away withought ever letting Margaery go. Margaery seemed maddened to stop, "Your turn," Sansa insisted.

Catching on, Margaery slipped her arms from where she'd placed them, moving out of their embrace. She unclasped her bra, tossing it aside.

Sansa didn't want to be so amazed by something so surface and subjective as body; but Margaery's was incredible. Sansa wanted it beneath her at once.

Margaery removed what remained of her underwear and smiled, pleased with Sansa's obvious attraction.

"I win?" She asked, decievingly demure.

"Without doubt."

They embraced once more, the heat of skin against skin enticing Sansa even further. She gripped tight to Margaery, kissing her with a ferocity she hadn't known existed within her. She moved her hand to the base of Margaery's stomach, pressing downwards ever so slightly.

"Oh!" Margaery gasped, grinding into Sansa's hand.

"Bed?"

Margaery nearly threw Sansa to it in response.

_All because I spilled a cup of tea , _Sansa thought to her own amusement. 

Such a lucky mistake it was.


End file.
